Clash of Myths
by ExtremeFangirl1423
Summary: Elizzabeth Bane believes she's a normal girl. Well, as normal as a child prodigy can be. Even when she discovers she's a Greek demigod, she still seems normal by demigod standards. But, when she's fourteen, the gods finally reveal why it was an Egyptian Monster that attacked her for the first time when she was twelve.
1. Attack of the Serpopard

I'm going to start out by saying that this is EXTREMELY confidential. If you don't have the authorization to read this, STOP READING IMMEDIATELY!!! Okay, I'm assuming you have authorization at this point. Chiron asked me to record my research as a guide for other people like me. If there ever is another, though I doubt the gods would do it again after what happened the first time. My name is Elizzabeth Bane, but I go by Lizz. I'd prefer that nobody call me Elizzabeth. Ever. All my life I thought I was a demigod daughter of Apollo. Then, I turned fourteen and found out my entire life has been a lie. I suppose I should start at the beginning. The trainwreck that is my life all started when I was twelve, during an innocent sixth-grade field trip.

I sat on the school bus, alone in the last row. My violin was on the floor by my feet. I was the only Freshman in the school orchestra. I had also skipped several grades, so I was only twelve. There had been news articles about me, the "child prodigy". Because of that, everybody hated me. Despite me being younger than everybody else, I was the first chair. If you don't know what that means, it essentially means I lead the violin section. I have several solos, and my teacher thinks I'm the greatest thing since Hercules. The bus screeched to a stop, and everyone was thrown forward. I slammed into the seat in front of me. The town I lived in, North Adams Massachusets, was extremely small, so they couldn't be picky about bus drivers. The woman driving our bus looked about ninety, and her glasses were on the ground, smashed into a million pieces. It was unsettling to think we still had four hours left to drive before we got to the music festival in Boston we were playing at. My teacher stood up. She was a small woman in her late twenties. She loved the color pink way too much. I've never once seen her not wearing all pink. She smiled one of her try-too-hard smiles, and announced, "The choir from the other high school will be taking the same bus as us, so everyone make room!" she said too cheerily. Everyone looked at each other. We didn't necessarily have to make room. It was a full-sized bus, and there were only fifteen kids in our orchestra. The choir from the other school boarded the bus. One boy immediately caught my eye. He had tousled black hair and dark eyes. He was the best looking boy I'd ever seen, but that's not why I noticed him. Okay, that might be part of it, but the thing that really caught my eye was his age. He looked about as old as I was. A few people elbowed him on his way to the back. His eyes locked with mine, and he smiled. He made his way to the back and plopped down beside me.

"Hey, I'm Mark," he said with a lopsided smile.

" Er, I'm Lizz," I answered. He raised an eyebrow.

"Whoah, you from England?" He asked, obviously noticing my accent. I forced a smile, trying my best to ignore the painful memories that came flooding back.

"Yeah, I lived in Whitby until I was six. I honestly don't know how I still have the accent." We both laughed a little.

"That's awesome. So, you're what, eleven, twelve?" He asked.

"Twelve."

"Me too! When's your birthday?"

"August twenty-eighth. You?"

"April sixth. And you play the viola?"

"It's a violin!"

"I knew that." We both laughed. I was really starting to like this boy. We talked for a while. I soon discovered that he was pretty much a boy version of me. We both prefer cats to dogs, we both skipped middle school, we even liked all the same musicians. It was so hard to find people who like Lindsay Stirling. Once the conversation turned to music, I took out my iPod and we listened to all of the songs I had on it, sharing my earbuds. After the last song ended, his phone buzzed. He looked at it and shrugged.

"Just my mom. Hey, our town is pretty small. Maybe I know your parents. What's your last name?" I bit my lip. I always hated this conversation, no matter who it was with.

"Bane," I said at last.

"Whoa, like Chase Bane? He's the richest person in North Adams! He's your dad? He has kids? He was born and raised here. How do you have a British accent?" I sighed.

"He's my adopted dad. I was born in Whitby, but I never knew my mum and dad. Mr. Bane lived in Whitby for five years. He adopted me when I was one. When I was six, we moved here. I don't really remember much before Mr. Bane adopted me." I hated how people looked at me when they found out Chase Bane was my dad. Like I'd have them executed if they made a wrong move. That's why all of my teachers were so nice to me. They just wanted an in with my dad. But Mark didn't look at me like that. When I finally met his eyes, they were full of sympathy.

"You miss Whitby, don't you?" He asked when I'd finished. I just nodded. I was afraid that if I tried to speak, I'd start crying. I did miss Whitby. More than anything. I just missed Britain altogether. What I wouldn't give to go back...

"Hey, what's your phone number?" he asked, snapping me back to reality. I was relieved that he'd changed the subject.

"Oh, er, Mr. Bane won't buy me a phone for reasons unknown to me. He bought me my iPod with a great amount of reluctance, and he doesn't like me using the home phone often. He only has a flip phone, even though he could afford pretty much any phone he wanted. He rarely uses it. I can give you my home phone if you'd like though." I've never understood what Mr. Bane has against technology. There are only two phones in our entire house, and he uses them as little as possible. Mr. Bane is extremely mysterious altogether. There are all sorts of rooms in the mansion that I've never been in. Once when I was about ten, I accidentally opened a door I wasn't supposed to open. Inside was all sorts of weapons and armor, but nothing modern. Everything looked like it was from Ancient Greece. I had left the room quickly, trying my best to relock the door. I don't even know how I unlocked it in the first place. I just grabbed the handle and it popped open. I also don't know why I still call him Mr. Bane. I did when he was my foster dad, and when he adopted me, I didn't stop.

"Yeah, what's your home phone number?" Mark asked. I told him and he put it on his phone. He held up his phone as if he was taking a picture.

"Smile," he said. I just had time to twist my face into an awkward smile before the flash blinded me.

"I needed a picture of you for your contact," he explained, showing me the picture. I groaned.

"Ugh, I look awful." My long brown hair was in a messy braid. The gold streaks in my hair glinted due to the flash. The gold flecks in my grey eyes seemed to sparkle. I was extremely gorgeous. Everyone is always taken back at first when they meet me for the first time. I'm aware that most girls would kill to have my small pointed nose and delicate features, but it doesn't really match me. I was an extremely nerdy fangirl who was rarely around boys my age. It just seemed like a shame that such unearthly beauty would be wasted like that. On someone like me. I looked at Mark, expecting a smile, but his face was dead serious.

"I don't think that's possible." I gave a small smile and opened my mouth to respond, but the bus squealed to a stop, throwing us both forward. I groaned, massaging my sore head.

"Were here everyone!" My teacher announced, her unnaturally high voice made me cringe. I stuck my iPod in my pocket and grabbed my violin and sheet music. Mark and I stood up and walked to the exit. On our way, a large mean looking boy stuck his foot out, tripping me. He roared with laughter. I stumbled into Mark who caught me. I quickly scrambled to my feet. I looked up at the jerk who tripped me. I didn't recognize him, but he had on a shirt from my school. I raised an eyebrow.

"What, might I ask, was that for?" Mark asked, scowling at the boy. The large, mean looking boy who tripped me seemed to growl. I looked around and realized that we were alone on the bus. I didn't even see the bus driver. I grabbed Mark's arm.

"Come on, let's just go..." I began to pull him towards the door, but the boy stepped in front of us. I got a good look at him then. He had choppy blonde hair and a face that appeared to be permanently twisted into a sneer. I noticed his eyes and stumbled back. They were glowing red. I watched in horror as his face grew fur, and soon morphed into a lion head. His neck elongated and grew scales. After a matter of seconds, Mark and I stood staring into the red eyes of a beast that resembled a lion but had the long, green, scaly neck of a serpent.

"Serpopard," I mumbled under my breath.

"WHAT?!" Mark yelled.

"Serpopard!" I repeated, "It's a monster from Egyptian Mythology, but they're not real!" I yelled. It hissed and snapped at my arm. I screamed as its razor sharp teeth dug into my skin. Mark hit it in the face with his backpack and it pulled away. Dizzy with pain, I stumbled back into Mark. My arm hurt too bad to care. He examined my wound and nearly gagged. He tried not to show how uneasy he was, but I could tell. I refused to look at my arm. It would just make it worse.

"Seems pretty real to me!" Mark said. He tried to carry me to the emergency exit but the monster leaped in front of us.

"Hey, Lizz?" Mark asked, quietly.

"Yeah?" I managed through the sharp pain in my arm.

"I - I don't think we're going to make it through this." His voice quavered slightly. The monster opened its mouth, and we braced ourselves.


	2. I Bleed Gold

Mark and I braced ourselves, preparing for death, but it never came. The door to the bus flew open, and the Serpopard froze. Mark and I spun around, looking at the door. There, panting heavily and wielding a pair of panpipes as a weapon, was a teenage looking boy from the waist up, and a furry brown goat from the waist down. A satyr. I nearly fainted. I must have been hallucinating. Maybe I'd fallen asleep on the bus? Mark did seem too good to be true. But, the pain had been real. My arm wasn't really throbbing anymore. In fact, it felt a lot better, but I figured it was probably my imagination or something. As I realized how much blood I must have lost, my head swam. I turned back to the satyr. His eyes drifted to the serpopard and widened with fear.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ZEUS IS THAT!?" He screamed, looking like he was about to pass out.

"WHAT ARE _YOU_!?" Mark asked, equally as terrified.

"Th-that doesn't matter right now," The goat-man stuttered, "Right now, you have to kill this... Whatever the Hades it is!" The serpopard snarled from behind us. We ducked as it pounced at us, sending it flying into a pile of caution tape the bus driver was using to hold closed a broken emergency exit. The monster struggled against it, apparently stuck. Temporarily at least. The satyr dug through his pocket at pulled out a skull-shaped pin. He tossed it to Mark, who caught it with a raise of his eyebrow.

"What the hell is this going to do!?" He yelled.

"Open the safety pin part!" The satyr called back. Mark mumbled something about how the crazy goat was going to get us killed, and did what he asked. As soon as the safety pin part was open, the needle elongated into a black Ancient Greek style sword. Mark's eyes widened as he examined the blade. He opened his mouth, but the serpopard snarled. Apparently, it had got untangled. It lunged at Mark, who braced himself and held up the blade. I couldn't tell who was more surprised, the serpopard, or Mark, as the blade sliced through the monster's stomach. It crumbled to sand around him.

"I can't believe that worked!" The satyr said, cheerfully.

"You WHAT!?" Mark asked, looking about ready to strangle the goat, who simply ignored him and galloped (galloped?) over to me.

"Let's see that arm," he said grimly. I held it out, trying my hardest not to look at it. The satyr let out a small, strangled gasp.

"No," he muttered over and over again, "No, it can't be..." After a few seconds, curiosity got the better of me. I looked at the would, and gasped as well. Instead of the red bloody mess I was expecting, there were only a few small holes in my arm. Thick, gold liquid leaked out of it.

"Ichor," the satyr whispered, "The blood of the gods."

"Wh-what does that mean?" I asked, quietly. The satyr looked me in the eye, a sympathetic look on his face.

"I don't know. I'll have to ask Chiron when we get to camp. I'll doctor this up so we can leave." Mark walked over, a furious look on his face.

"Whoah whoah whoah," he interrupted, "Chiron? Camp? Leave? What the hell are you blabbering on about?" The satyr sighed. "First of all, let me introduce myself. I'm Rowan, and I'm a satyr!"

"I can see that," Mark mumbled, eyeing his goat legs. Rowan shot a glare at him.

"Chiron is a centaur who trains demigods to be heroes. There's a demigod camp called camp half-blood, where Greek demigods can go to be safe. It's in Long Island Sound."

"Long island sound? Demigods? Wouldn't a camp for Greek demigods be in, oh, I don't know, Greece?" Mark asked.

"It _was_ in Greece. But it follows Western Civilization, which is why it's now in New York. You two are demigods, so I'm taking you back to camp. It's my job."

"Oh really, It's your job huh? You seriously expect us to just go with you to a magical summer camp after you tell us were demigods? I'm not buying any of it." Mark crossed his arms.

"Mark," I argued, "I was just bitten by a serpent-lion and I'm bleeding gold. I'm starting to think anything is possible..." Mark sighed.

"I - I guess your right. Plus, if this _is_ a dream, nothing I do will affect me! You know, in real life." Mark said with a small smile. I laughed a little and glanced down at my arm. Rowan had wrapped it in bandages. I couldn't even tell I'd been gushing blood moments before. I examined the wrappings and found myself frowning.

"The bandages are too tight." I instinctively adjusted them. After I was done, I blinked, not really sure what I had done. Rowan examined my work.

"Oh my gods," he muttered, "It's perfect!"

"Really?" I asked, remembering the trouble I'd had with band-aids when I was eight. Rowan nodded.

"I'm assuming your an Apollo kid."

"Apollo kid?" Mark asked, but then his eyes widened. "Oh, right. Demigods. Forgot." I looked at Rowan. He had curly brown hair with little goat horns sticking out the top. His eyes reminded me of a bunny's, sweet, innocent, and absolutely terrified of just about everything.

"Wait a second," I said, "If we're Greek demigods, then why were we attacked by an Egyptian monster?" Rowan frowned.

"I've been asking myself that same question. You two are pretty peculiar, you know that?"

Mark smiled and opened his mouth for what was most likely going to be a snarky comeback, but his eyes widened.

"Oh shit, your pin!" he said, handing it back to Rowan. Rowan shrugged.

"Meh, keep it. One of the Hephaestus campers made it. I figured you two probably didn't have any weapons, so I brought one. Well, I knew Lizz had a weapon-."He clamped his hand over his mouth. I narrowed my eyes.

"Why would you think I had a weapon? I don't have a weapon!" The satyr face-palmed.

"I've already said too much," he said, the sentence muffled by his hand.

"Dude, now you _have_ to tell us," Mark said. Rowan groaned.

"Your adopted father," he told me, "Is a demigod."


	3. We Steal A School Bus

"What? No, he - he would have told me..." It felt my head was about to explode. Rowan gave me a sad look.

"I don't know much else, I swear. Just that Chase is a powerful son of Hephaestus. He became so rich because of his building skills. He invented a bunch of stuff, and the mortals ate it up. He made millions. Your backpack can turn into a golden bow and arrow. Chase found it in his shed one day with a note saying to give it to you. He experimented with it a little to make sure it wasn't cursed and gave it to you. That's all Chiron told me, I swear!" He flinched as if he were a criminal we were interrogating. I gave him a small smile and decided to change the subject. I didn't think my brain could take any more of this nonsense.

"So, er, how are we going to get to camp?"

"Hey," Mark noticed, "The keys are still in the ignition!"

Rowan smiled. "I guess we're taking the bus!"

*

Uh, hi, Mark Moretti here. Lizz got tired of narrating, so I guess we'll alternate or something? Uh, back to the story I guess. Rowan climbed into the driver's seat. He turned the bus on and put the bus driver's hat on.

"Buckle up!" he said cheerily.

"Um, this is a school bus," Lizz said, "There are no seatbelts."

"WHAT?! No seatbelts!?!" Rowan yelped. "Don't worry, I brought some rope." I opened my mouth to protest, but Lizz nudged me and whispered,

"There's no getting out of this." I sighed. We sat down in the front and Rowan spent about fifteen minutes making sure we were tied down sufficiently. I reached to take out my phone, but Rowan snatched it out of my hand.

"Hey!" I protested. I watched in horror as he chucked it out the window.

"No phones!" Rowan yelled, "That's probably how the monster found you in the first place! Demigods and technology don't mix!" It took all of my self-control, along with the ropes holding me down not to get up and punch him in the face. Happily oblivious, he took his place in the driver's seat. The bus lurched into motion.

"Sorry about your phone," Lizz said. I could tell she was trying hard not to smile. I felt my cheeks grow hot and hoped she couldn't see me blushing. Rowan had tied us super close to each other.

"I'm just wondering what'll happen when my mom tries to text me again. She's gonna think I'm dead!" Lizz gave a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask.

"I'm just thinking about my dad. Why wouldn't he tell me about this? What reason did he have to keep this from me? He's the one who made me such a mythology nerd, but why wouldn't he tell me it was all real?"

I slipped my hand into her's and squeezed it. "Hey, we'll figure this all out once we get to camp. Rowan made it sound like this Chiron guy is all-knowing." We both laughed a little.

"I think I'm going to try to get some sleep. I'm exhausted." She said. She closed her eyes, and I could tell she was asleep in a few seconds. I smiled and blushed as her head fell onto my shoulder. I had just met this girl a few hours ago, and she was already the best friend I'd ever had. Maybe this whole demigod thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

A few hours into the trip, Rowan pulled over at a gas station. He cut us free (finally) and we went inside to get some snacks. He had about fifty dollars on him and told us to buy whatever we wanted.

"Score," Lizz said once inside, "Do you have any idea how many Cheddar-Jalapeno Cheetos I could buy with this?" We both laughed. A few minutes later, we walked out of the store with two Pepsis, a bottle of pink lemonade, a giant bag of Cheddar-Jalapeno Cheetos, and about twelve bags of Sweedish Fish. We climbed back on the bus. Lizz smiled sinisterly and walked over to the pile of rope by our seat. She picked it up, then pushed down the window on the other side and tossed it out.

"Rowans' gonna be pissed," I said. Lizz shrugged.

"Hows' he supposed to know it was me? All we have to do is tell him we walked in, and the rope was gone. He'll think someone stole it." We laughed and sat back down. Rowan came back and walked over to us, meaning to tie us down again, but couldn't find the rope.

"Oh no!" He yelled, "What if we get in an accident!? Who builds a vehicle without seatbelts!?"

"Rowan, relax," Lizz told him, "Kids ride around in these things all the time. We'll be fine!"

Rowan reluctantly sat back down and started the bus.

"Fine. But if you die, just know that I _tried_ to help!" He backed the bus out of the parking lot.

"We should be at camp in about an hour," Rowan said after we'd turned onto the highway. "Nothing could happen in that amount of time, right?"

How wrong he was.


End file.
